Strands of Bronze and Gold, page 23
Bernard’s gaze was often fastened upon me. When I sailed about the floor with older gentlemen, his expression was benign, but when I danced with younger gentlemen, my fiancé glowered. Evidently sauce for the goose was not sauce for the gander—he could flirt as he wished, but he frowned when it was turnabout. I tried to smile at him gratefully when I caught his eye. He must be kept on an even keel.
I retired to catch my breath in a little corner bower and fanned myself with the swans-down fan that dangled from my wrist by a ribbon.
Through a screen twined with garlands, I peeked at Junius speaking intently to a terrifying-looking gentleman near a refreshment table. He had hoped to make acquaintances for business purposes, so that was good. Harry flirted with a pretty blonde with a mischievous smile. Anne danced a second dance with a massive young man. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if both of them met someone tonight worth keeping? The movement of the frothy, billowing flounces seemed like the ebb and flow of the ocean. The sound of many voices imitated the sound of the sea. My eyes drooped.
And then I saw Gideon. My engagement ring cut into my flesh as I clenched my hands together. At some point he had slipped in and was now speaking to an elderly lady in silver satin. Seeing his dear face was like a physical blow. Of course I hadn’t really forgotten it. He was here—and it was too late.
The music hushed and Bernard stepped onto the musicians’ platform. “Honored guests, I have an announcement to make,” he said loudly, above the other voices. “Where is my Sophia?” His eyes swept the crowd.
Go up there. I must go.
In a daze I exited my hiding place and made my way toward him. “Ah, there she is.” He held out his hand and I placed my chill fingers in his. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to my fiancée and the future mistress of Wyndriven Abbey, Miss Sophia Petheram.” He continued with praise for me that I didn’t hear, nor did I hear the murmur of the crowd. All I knew was Gideon.
His head rose above the others—he was so tall. His eyes were riveted on mine, and there was a shocked question in them. A pang of love stabbed through my heart as, ever so faintly, I nodded. He stood stiff in rigid anguish.
Amid the handshakes and congratulations and introductions that beset me, I saw Gideon back away, then leave the hall. He headed toward the conservatory.
When I could, I excused myself, whispering to Bernard that a feminine matter must be attended to. I squirmed inwardly as I said it, but I needed a reason to leave the room that he wouldn’t question. (Or at least that I didn’t think he would question.) He smirked a little, then released me.
Gideon slumped on the edge of the fountain, staring into the water where goldfish darted, but his gaze did not follow their brightness. He raised his head when I entered and barely glanced my way before looking down once more. “Is this a terrible dream?” he asked.
“I wish we’d both wake up if it is.” I swallowed. “I’m afraid it’s real life, though.”
“When I received the invitation, I was so happy to know I would see you again at last. I expected I would meet your family, and you and I would have a chance to talk. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could make our future plans together—since you had said you would go away with your siblings when they leave. I was a fool.”
I dropped down to the ledge beside him. “I had no choice in the end.”
“A person always has options.”
“I used to think so too.” My voice was shaking. “But sometimes, given who we are and our circumstances, that just isn’t true.” He was so close. My whole body ached from yearning to reach out and touch him, to comfort him and me both. I held my arms tightly at my sides. “Instead, you had no choice but to stop meeting me and I had no choice but to find a way to help my family out of their troubles.”
“It never occurred to me you couldn’t wait a few months.” He rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “Did I mention I was a fool?”
My shoulders drooped. I couldn’t find my handkerchief, so I dabbed away my silent tears with the delicate top layer of my skirt. “I would have waited for you forever if I could have, but … it’s complicated … I’ve been so unhappy.”
“So have I, but I fought the loneliness by thinking over the hours we spent together and hoping and planning. And now you’ll marry de Cressac.”
My misery was so great I could scarcely speak. “My family needs the money,” I managed to squeeze out.
“I see. You’re marrying for money.”
I raised my bowed head and said, “No, Mr. Stone, I’m not. I’m marrying for love—love of my family. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head and stood. I could hold myself back no longer from reaching for his arm; it seemed that if I could just—but he was gone too swiftly. He had never really looked at me the whole time we were speaking. I was left with my hand in midair. He halted at the outer conservatory door. Without turning, he said, “Remember, in spite of everything, if you should ever need help, you do have a friend nearby.”
He left just as Bernard burst through the other entrance. In the steamy warm air of the conservatory, a coldness wafted. Bernard was scowling. Had he seen Gideon? Had he heard anything? Please no.
I ran to him, even though my wobbly limbs nearly gave way beneath me, and put my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I was detained by one of our guests,” I said with an arch smile.
“Who was it?”
“Only the funny preacher. He admires your ferns.”
“I should prefer that my fiancée not be alone with other gentlemen. Odd that a guest should exit the house in such a way.”
“Does it matter how he leaves, so long as he does? What is he to us?”
I lifted my face for another caress, trying to erase all doubts from his mind. His lips met mine savagely, his grip on my arms bruising.
Finally he pulled away. “There. You may dance with whomever you please, but only I may do that.”
I schooled my features, trying to hide my disgust. “I’m having such a grand time. Do you know, I didn’t realize what a fine dancer you were before tonight? And you flirt so proficiently with all the pretty ladies. I was jealous indeed.”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Whereas you are not so fine a dancer. I was ashamed. We must see that you practice. Perhaps I shall get you a dancing master. Evidently I was remiss in not providing one early on. Stumbling about with your brothers in your kitchen hardly was adequate.”
I swallowed back the sting and put my hands on his shoulders. “Listen, can you hear the music? Dance with me here—just the two of us. You can teach me all I need to know.”
Bernard’s sardonic curl of the lips told me he knew I was trying to distract him, and he would let me get away with it—this time.
As we danced, a thought came to me: Gideon and I never had a chance. It was always hopeless. Even if we’d continued to meet secretly, eventually we would have had to leave the shelter of the forest, and always Bernard would have been there, waiting.
“Christmas gift!” First Toby, and then the other young boys, jumped out from a doorway, and I gave them each two pennies as a reward for startling me so. Bernard had warned us of this Southern holiday custom to be the first to say these words upon meeting anyone, and he had supplied us with coins for the forfeit.
I hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly dawn. I felt wretched, but I tried to shake myself out of it because it was Christmas morning and my family was here.
A fiddler wandered through the house, playing frolicking tunes. I followed him, running to each of my siblings’ rooms as I always had on past holidays. Anne laughed, while Harry and Junius grumbled at the early hour—just as they always had. Little things …
Before our breakfast we had a ceremony of making eggnog and dipping the creamy, spicy liquid into tall glasses. Everyone—servants, master, and guests—all drank to each other’s health right there in the cavernous kitchen. The place seemed almost jolly.
Our meal was a traditional Southern one: scrambled eggs, slices of cured ham, oysters brought by the barrel on steamboat from New Orleans, fried catfish, bacon, hot flaky biscuits drowning in butter and syrup, several kinds of fruit preserves, cold milk, and strong coffee.
The servants dished up our breakfast hastily. They were excited to be transported out to Wyndriven Plantation for the day’s festivities.
Bernard, Anne, Harry, Junius, and I all retired afterward to the drawing room for the exchange of gifts. My siblings enthused over the items I had bought for them that November day in Memphis. Bernard gave me a velvet-covered album; several books; a sparkling, elaborate ruby set; and his new photograph in an ornate silver frame. I thanked him extravagantly, but I privately thought the photograph didn’t do him justice. It looked flat; it hadn’t captured his vitality.
As he spread out the tapestry I had made for him and praised my workmanship, I was silent. I had done a morbid and terrible thing. What had gotten into me? He must never, never learn what threads made up the fire.
He stroked the flames, and my stomach clenched.
“Amazing,” he said, “and dramatic. Such brilliant silks.” An odd expression passed over his features. “It almost scorches my skin. What magic did you work into your stitching, my sweet sorceress?”
He put it down rather abruptly and rose then—time to visit the plantation. Thank goodness. Hopefully he would never again examine his tapestry closely, but if he did, I would certainly pass off all the hair as my own.
As we drove, the smell of barbecuing meat and the smoke of bonfires wafted from a distance. In a clearing amid a grove of live oaks, a pit had been dug and a couple of hogs roasted. Girls turned the spit while a woman spooned drippings over them; the juices sputtered in the glowing coals. Several dogs watched the proceedings with interest as running, jumping, overly excited children tossed inflated hog bladders back and forth.
Today the plantation seemed a happy place. There were to be three days free from work—three days of dancing and merrymaking.
Bernard rang the great plantation bell in the yard, and people streamed in from everywhere. We stood beside a wagon and distributed flour, sugar, meal, coffee, molasses, and the fabric and clothing we had prepared. They bobbed their heads and thanked us profusely, which embarrassed me. I wasn’t suited to being Lady Bountiful. What had we done to deserve us being in our position and them in theirs?
Aunt Cassie, the “tender” of the children, lined up her charges before us as we gave them their packets of treats and smiled benignly at their delight. Bernard tossed a handful of coins in the air and laughed at the scramble that ensued.
Now the band struck up, with knucklebones and sticks, two fiddles and a banjo, the spritely notes punctuated by the popping of firecrackers. There was to be a wedding and a dance that night in the barn. I wished we could stay to watch them shuffle and jig and “cut the pigeon wing” (which I was curious to see), but Bernard had no intention of remaining for it.
He explained that the slaves’ marriage ceremony involved “jumping the broom,” since they couldn’t be wed legally, as “property” could not enter into a lawful contract. Bernard chuckled over this; I and, from their faces, my siblings were horrified by it.
We sat on planks stretched over barrels and ate yams and ham and corn bread and okra. The simplicity of the meal soothed me.
As I surveyed the crowd, a familiar face stood out. Charles. Charles, who had been arrayed so splendidly in sapphire velvet livery, now wore a much-patched jacket and homespun shirt. Talitha was beside him, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm. They stood slightly separated from the rest, complete in each other. Talitha felt my eyes on her and looked my way. She gave me a faint, expressive smile before turning back to Charles.
I was tired and silent as we drove back to the abbey. All those people, and there was nothing I could do for them. Perhaps it wasn’t true, but it seemed as if I were as much in Bernard’s power as any slave on the plantation.
Everyone else acted preoccupied as well, looking down at their laps or gazing sightlessly out the windows.
Suddenly Anne broke the silence. “Monsieur de Cressac, in conscience I must speak. How can you justify this way of life? Yes, you give those people presents at Christmastime, but that doesn’t make up for their bondage all year round. How can you believe it right?”
Oh no, oh no. I braced myself.
“It is right in the eyes of the law, ma’am.” Bernard’s smile was twisted, as if he were about to enjoy this challenge.
“Now, Anne,” Junius said, “it’s not our place to question these things. The quarters look decent and they clearly have food. They—”
He might as well not have spoken. Neither my sister nor my fiancé paid him any heed.
“There is a higher law than man’s law,” she said quietly.
“None that I recognize, ma’am.” He gave her a half bow.
“And that isn’t right either. You should not keep my sister from church. From her connection with God.”
She should have known no one must question Bernard. No one must challenge him. His tone, the overly polite way he addressed her as “ma’am,” the way he leaned slightly forward, all showed his extreme displeasure.
I clutched his arm. “Please—” I whispered.
The tendons bulged in his neck, but he half smiled, and his next words were spoken evenly, calmly, though they caused my stomach to turn over. “Do you know, Sophia, I believe it is time for your family to bring their visit to an end.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Now, really, Monsieur de Cressac—” Harry started to say, but stopped himself.
My mouth was so dry it was hard to form words. “They haven’t even been here a month, and the wedding is in just a few weeks. They must be here for that.” I kept my own tone even. Instinctively I knew this was not a time for tears and pleading.
“I do not see why,” Bernard said coolly. “You yourself said you wished for a small wedding. We shall have a very small one indeed. All we need is a witness or two and a preacher. Your friend Mr. Stone would do nicely.”
“You cannot separate Sophie from her family!” Anne cried.
Oh, couldn’t my sister be quiet?
“ ‘Cannot’? You must know that I can do whatever I please. Sophia is my fiancée and she is also my ward. I can keep her from whomever I wish whenever I wish. I assure you I have her best interests at heart.”
My gloved fingers were digging into his arm. One by one he pried them off and then imprisoned my hand in his own, so tightly that I winced.
Too late Anne saw what she had done. “I apologize, sir, if I was impertinent. I beg you’ll forget my words and not punish Sophie for my mistake. Please, may we stay on for the wedding?”
“No, I think not,” Bernard said. “If you will excuse me, I will go now to instruct the servants to bring down your trunks, and tomorrow morning you will be driven to Memphis. Samuel will purchase your train tickets there and see you safely off to Boston.”
The carriage had pulled up before the abbey as he spoke. Now he alighted and reached out to help me down. He then turned his back on us all and stalked into the house.
My sister and I wept as we held each other.
“Sophie,” Harry mouthed over Anne’s shoulder, “um—have you asked him yet?”
I shook my head slightly.
“Well, Anne,” he said, “you’ve certainly made a mess of things.”
“Don’t blame her,” I said, pulling away. “What she said was true, and I should have stood up to Bernard on those subjects long ago, but I’m a coward. There’s no way Anne could have known the effect confronting him would have.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but possibly Bernard had provoked the confrontation so he’d have an excuse to send my family packing. Probably he’d been waiting for such a moment.
“Well, we’d better go see to our baggage,” Junius said. “Do you think de Cressac will still allow me into his business, Sophie?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll talk to him. And I’ll speak to him for you too, Harry. I’m so sorry.” I covered my face with my hands and sobbed in earnest now. “Oh, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go.”
Junius and Harry both patted my shoulders awkwardly before going inside with slow, tired steps.
Anne waited until I could choke back my tears. She looked me intently in the eyes. “You mustn’t marry him, Sophie. He was so cold. So terrible. Come away with us. We’ll get by somehow.”
“No.” She needed to understand some things, so I pulled myself together. “I have to marry him. He’ll never let me escape, and the ways he’d punish us if I tried to leave would be far, far worse than being married to him. At least if I’m his wife, he’ll let me do some good here and there with his money. It’s enough; don’t worry about me. I know quite well how to handle him and I’ll be careful.” With conviction I didn’t feel, I added, “I’ll be fine.”
Bernard didn’t join us for our silent supper. Golden light glowed beneath his office door. Having neglected his business pursuits these last weeks, he now returned to them, shutting us out. My siblings and I spent the evening quietly together and retired early. They had a long day of travel ahead and there was nothing more to be said.
I went to my room and put in action a desperate plan.
Rather than having Odette help me into nightclothes, I brought out my off-the-shoulder gown of plum-colored satin—one of Bernard’s favorites. She raised her eyebrows but dressed me and brushed out my rippling hair. I dabbed on the violet scent Bernard liked.
I was reminded of Queen Esther in the Bible, how she had donned special apparel to face King Ahasuerus to plead for her people. Had she brushed out her tresses and used special perfume as well? As I made my way down the corridors and grand stairway to Bernard’s office, I thought about her still. According to ancient Persian law, if someone approached the king unbidden and he didn’t hold out his golden scepter, the person was executed.
